prediction
by ShadowsTakeAll
Summary: The first few times she says it, he doesn't listen. But this time it's different. [or: this time Lydia does make a prediction and Stiles suddenly wishes she hadn't.]
1. Chapter 1

**I'm a horrible person. This was originally meant to be a one-shot but I'm a sucker for suspense so I decided to split it up. Hence why it's so short. So if you're going to review and tell me it's too short or to make my chapters longer... yeah, don't do that. So there'll be a couple more chapters after this, not sure how many. Read, review, check out my other stories, etc. This is set right at the start of 4x01.**

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The first few times she says it, he doesn't listen. But this time it's different.

"We're going to die."

There's a hitch in her voice, a slight crack that he knows all too well. Stiles comes to a stop and turns to face her. She's standing a few feet away, arms wrapped around herself and her gaze fixed on a place somewhere beyond his shoulder. Halfway through another dismissive comment, he snaps his mouth shut.

"Lydia?" he says softly, not moving toward her, not moving away. Just standing, waiting, because suddenly he knows what's coming. She doesn't answer right away, but she lowers her gaze. "Lydia," he says again, and she looks up at him. "Who is it?"

She clears her throat, and he can't tell if she's stalling or trying to find the courage to say the words. "You know how you told me to limit my comments to actual predictions?" she asks.

Stiles nods, his heart sinking. There's that faraway look in her eyes, like she's looking at something the rest of them can't (and probably wouldn't want to) see, and her head is tilted slightly to the side. She's listening – what she listens _to_, they're not exactly sure, but she's never been wrong about this before.

"Well." She bites her lip, and suddenly the faraway look fades. But instead of being reassuring, this is only more troubling – because all Stiles can focus on is the fear glistening in her eyes. "Stiles, it's…"

He says her name again, crossing the space between them. He rests a hand on her shoulder, and a jolt of some half-forgotten but still-familiar feeling rushes through him. Lydia doesn't seem to notice, because she doesn't move, doesn't react at all. "Lydia, who is it?" he asks again.

She turns her gaze to him, but it's like she's looking through him. And even before she says it, he knows. "Stiles, it's us." She jerks her head toward the club they'd just been about to enter. "If we go in there, we're going to die." Her eyes flick to him and then back again. "Both of us."

It's not an idle comment, not even a prediction. She says it like a fact, and although he tries not to show it, the words chill Stiles to the bone. He shoves his hand into the pocket of his jacket, trying to be optimistic, but Lydia's uncharacteristic quietness is more than a little unsettling. "Okay," he says, already punching in the number, "okay, we'll just change the plan. I'll call Scott and -"

"Stiles."

There it is again – he'll never understand how she can convey such emotion in a single word – the way her voice shakes and the word tangles up in itself.

"What?" His fingers still over the keys, and he's suddenly sure he doesn't want to know what she's about to say. But he's equally sure he needs to know.

Lydia reaches for him, almost like she had the night that Allison and Aiden died; like if she doesn't hold onto something, she won't be able to keep herself standing. Instinctively he steps closer to her, and she leans against him. He tries to pretend he can't feel her shaking.

"If we go in there, we're going to die." She swallows, hesitates, and then hammers the last nail into their coffin. "But if we don't go in there… then the others - Scott, Kira, Malia... they're all going to die instead."

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**Sorry not sorry.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow. You guys are awesome. Thank you all so, so much. I'm not going to say whether or not anyone dies, but I find it endlessly amusing that you guys all know me well enough to not even hesitate to suggest I would kill off both members of my OTP in one fic. (Because, let's face it, I totally would.) Also, I wasn't sure if this would be an actual Stydia fic or just revolve around their friendship, but that got resolved when I was writing chapter four, so you'll see what I mean then. Anyway. Enjoy, review, etc.**

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The fifth time they try, Scott picks up. Stiles puts it on speaker and holds his cell between them so they can both listen. Scott's voice crackles through, almost drowned out by the sounds of the club around him.

"Where are you guys?" the alpha asks, sounding – in typical Scott fashion – more concerned than annoyed.

"Something came up," Stiles says, sharing a look with Lydia.

She gives him a grim smile, still coming to terms with the prediction she'd made. She's never been so sure of anything, never been so _scared_ of anything. It's probably the perfect time for her banshee powers to kick it into high gear, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck for her.

"Is everything okay?" Scott asks, and the sounds around him fade like he's moving somewhere quieter. Another room, maybe, or out in the hall.

Stiles hesitates, so Lydia steps in. She tries not to think of how familiar this all seems, how often she and Stiles have worked in tandem like this. Or how often she's the one delivering the bad news. "Scott, I had another one of my…" she trails off, because they've never really decided on a term for them, "… _feelings_."

There's dead silence on the other end of the line. "Who was it?"

Before Lydia can say anything – before she can even decide whether she's _going_ to say anything – Stiles answers. "It doesn't matter. You just – you need to get out of there. Okay?"

To Lydia's great relief, Scott doesn't ask any more questions. It's a sign of how far they've come – he's willing to take them at their word without needing an explanation. "Okay," he says quickly. "Just let me – Kira?"

Stiles and Lydia share another look. Kira and Malia were only meant to go to Scott if something was happening. If Kira's looking for him, it means –

"Something's wrong," Scott mutters into the phone, and the other two listen to him having a quick but quiet conversation with Kira. They can't make out all the words, but Lydia manages to catch a few phrases like _they have Malia_ and _coming to find you_.

"Scott," Stiles says, and Lydia can detect a faint hint of panic in his voice, "get out of there. _Now_."

He doesn't respond, but they can hear him asking Kira where she last saw Malia. She starts to answer, but her words are drowned out in a sudden burst of chaos. Stiles almost drops his phone in surprise, but Lydia just clenches her hands and tries to focus on the noises. There are new voices – electricity – a wolf-like howl. A thud. The line goes dead.

After a long, long moment, Stiles puts his cell back in his pocket.

"They got him," Lydia says. "They have Scott."

Stiles is already on his feet, and automatically he reaches for her. He helps her to her feet, and she hopes he can't tell how terrified she is. They don't need to discuss it, because there's always been an unspoken rule in the pack. Nobody gets left behind. Lydia would die for any of them, and although it shakes her to the core, she knows she might be about to prove it.

"So what do we do now?" Stiles asks, even though they both already know. If they don't go in, three of their friends will die. If they do, they might be able to let most of the pack escape. Math alone isn't enough to convince them, but loyalty is.

Lydia straightens her jacket, smooths her skirt, and tries to sound brave. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to go in there and save my friends." She hesitates just a second, meets Stiles' eyes, and gives him a teasing smile. "And Malia."

Then she darts inside before he can stop her.

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**Couldn't resist.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yeah, should have warned you guys - every chapter ends on a cliffhanger. But to make up for that (and how short the chapters are), I'll be doing very quick updates. You guys have definitely earned it. To answer a couple of concerns/questions: in total this story will be 7 chapters (challenge: if any of you can tell me which of my Stydia stories first mentioned the idea of 7 being special, I'll answer any question you ask about any of my stories, no matter how specific or whether it gives anything away); this is definitely a Stydia story; it's also all or nothing , so I won't be splitting up Stiles and Lydia - either they'll both die or neither of them will. Read on to find out which. Enjoy the chapter, and review away.**

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The second the door closes behind them, both of them know they've made a mistake. But they don't mention it; they just keep walking, on high alert, their hands almost brushing as they walk side by side. Neither of them have a clue where they're going, so they're listening for any sounds that would tell them where the hunters are keeping the rest of the pack.

About halfway down the hall the door behind them swings open again, and without thinking Stiles pushes Lydia through the nearest open door, his hand over her mouth to stop any exclamations of surprise. Favoring speed rather than silence, he closes the door, and they both hold their breath. Footsteps echo down the hall, pause, and then move on. Another door opens and closes, and then there's silence.

Stiles turns back to Lydia and finds her looking pointedly at his hand. He quickly removes it from her mouth and gives her an apologetic smile. She just rolls her eyes, and he knows her well enough to be able to tell that she's grateful rather than irritated.

The room they're in is empty, and the only way to get out is back the way they came. They wait a couple more minutes to make sure the coast is clear, and then Stiles checks the hall. There's nobody around, so he offers his hand to Lydia and leads her out of the room. The funny thing is, he doesn't even think about Malia – not until Lydia suddenly pulls her hand from his, her expression making it clear that she doesn't want to interfere with whatever it is he has going on with the werecoyote. If he's honest, he doesn't know what he _does_ have with Malia.

The path branches off at the end of the hall, and both paths look equally dark and unwelcoming. Stiles doesn't mention splitting up, and neither does Lydia. They're in this together.

"Which way?" he says quietly, hoping that her banshee senses can pick up on something. She closes her eyes, concentrating, and after a moment she points down the left path. He doesn't ask whether she's sure; he just follows her.

This time they don't even make it halfway down the hall when everything goes to hell. There's not enough time to react, even to shout out a warning. Somebody hits him from behind, and as he falls to the ground the last thing he sees is Lydia's horrified expression.

The first thing he sees when he wakes up is yet another face that's pale with fear.

"He's awake," Malia says to someone over her shoulder, and a second later Kira appears at her side. The two girls help Stiles sit up – carefully, slowly, painfully – and he looks around. There's nobody else in the room.

"Where's Lydia?" he mumbles, and if he's not much mistaken something like jealousy flashes through Malia's eyes.

"I don't know," the werecoyote says. "The guards brought you in here a few minutes ago."

"Just you," Kira adds. "We haven't seen Lydia. And I haven't seen Scott since somebody attacked us and brought me in here."

Stiles doesn't need a banshee with him to know what's going to happen next.

They're all going to die.

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**I think next chapter is my favorite so far, and I'm excited to share it with you. So show me some love and I'll see you all soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow. You guys are awesome. And you all asked such interesting questions - and not a single person asked about the ending to this story. Which is exciting because now you'll all be surprised by it. So here's where things get even more intense. You know the drill: read, review, and I'll update soon. Enjoy! And thank you all for the reviews thus far.**

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The last thing Lydia remembers seeing is Stiles slumping to the ground, and the first thing she sees now is Scott leaning over her. Relief washes over his face when she opens her eyes, but it's the exact opposite of what she feels. She sits up so quickly her head spins, and Scott reaches out to steady her. There's nobody else in the room, just the two of them.

"What happened?" he asks, and she notices that there's dried blood above his lip and an uncharacteristic sharpness in his voice.

"We -" she winces as she tries to stand up "- we were ambushed."

"You and Stiles?" he asks, and she nods. Scott stands up too, and Lydia can't tell if he's about to put his fist through a wall or if he's about to crumble. "So they have Stiles," Scott says, his voice shaking like he's trying too hard to keep it level, "and they probably have Malia and Kira as well."

Lydia's eyes dart over to the door. The solid metal, heavily padlocked door. "And they have us."

During her time in the pack, Lydia has seen Scott tried and tested again and again. She's seen his true colors, and she understands why he's a true alpha. But right now, all she can think is that he's still a teenager, just a kid like her, and there might not be a way out of this. She casts her senses out, trying to tell if their actions had changed the future at all.

There's nothing. She can't tell if the others are here, or even if they're alive. So much for her powers finally falling into place. Scott, seeing her frustration, tries to comfort her. She pushes him away.

"They have _Stiles_." Her voice breaks on his name, and she knows that Scott gets it. But she doesn't think Stiles knows, and she might not have a chance to tell him.

"We'll get him back," Scott says gently, and for a moment she believes him.

Then a grate in the door opens, and an unfamiliar and very unfriendly face looks in at them. Lydia finds herself reaching for Scott's hand, needing reassurance even though she's always been one to stand on her own two feet.

"We have the others," the man on the other side of the door says. "The human, the fox, and the coyote."

He waits, as if expecting a reaction, but when the other two don't say anything he continues.

"One of them is going to die." This does get a reaction – Lydia thinks her nails actually draw blood, she's squeezing Scott's hand so tightly – but he doesn't give them much time to process it. "If she -" he jerks his thumb at Lydia "- can predict which one it is, then we'll let the rest of you go."

Although it feels like all of Lydia's limbs have turned to ice, she manages to speak. "And if not?"

The man just smiles, and there's nothing warm about it. The grate slams closed and his footsteps fade, and then it's just the two of them. But he'll be back.

Lydia sits down near the door, her back resting against the wall, and Scott kneels beside her. He nods, encouraging, and she closes her eyes. She sends her senses out, and she can feel it – yes. Stiles, Kira, Malia – they're all together. But there's something there. Something not right. Something –

Her eyes fly open.

"What is it?" Scott asks, his hand on her shoulder to steady her, to remind her that she's not alone.

"They're not going to die," Lydia says, watching Scott's brow furrow in confusion. "Scott, they don't want me to predict which one they're going to kill." She sees it, a second before she says it – Scott knows what the game is now. "They want me to choose."

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**Uh oh.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys, and thanks as always for the reviews. You're all great. I hope you enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to review.**

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By the time he's tried it ten times, Stiles is ready to give up. The door is firmly locked, and even Malia – with her still unexplored werecoyote powers – can't get it open. Finally he slumps against the wall and admits defeat. Kira and Malia are watching him nervously, and that's when he realizes just how unhinged he must look. As the most senior member of the pack he feels like he should be taking charge, but he's so out of control he doubts the girls would listen to him even if he tried.

"It's going to be okay," Kira says, and Stiles tries to remember if she was always this optimistic or if she's just been spending too much time with Scott.

Malia glares at the kitsune. "How is this going to be okay? They've locked us up here like -"

She cuts herself off, but Stiles finishes the sentence in his mind. _Like animals. _Heavy silence descends on the three of them, broken suddenly by the sound of the door scraping open. A low voice commands them to step back, and he and Kira do. Malia starts to move forward, but Stiles and Kira pull her back. She's being impulsive, not heroic – and neither of those would do them any good anyway.

The man who walks into the room is tall and dark-skinned, and predictably intimidating. But there's something about the way he holds himself, the way he walks into the room – he's not the one in charge. He's just carrying out orders. For a second Stiles thinks that maybe they should just go for it. Between the three of them they might be able to take him out.

But then two more men appear on either side of the door, and there goes that plan.

Stiles fixes his gaze on the first man. "What do you want?" he asks, and to his surprise – and relief – his voice comes out sounding strong rather than scared.

"If it makes you feel any better," the man says, sounding infuriatingly nonchalant, "this has nothing to do with you. You three -" he points at each of them in turn "- are just here so we can test the others."

This isn't how Stiles was expecting things to go, and he's so caught off-guard that it's Kira who speaks next, even though he has a hundred questions himself.

"What kind of test?" she asks. "Who are you testing?"

The man raises an eyebrow. "Your alpha," he says, "and the banshee."

This is equal parts reassuring and terrifying, because it sounds like they haven't killed Scott or Lydia yet – but they might have something even worse in store for them.

"So you three just wait here," the man says, "the test will begin soon."

He leaves behind him a silence even darker than the one he'd walked into. Stiles tries to fight the panic fluttering in his chest, but it doesn't help that the last time he panicked like this ended with Lydia kissing him. He finds himself wishing she was here, and it's not just because she's in danger. It's because he needs her.

"What would she want with Lydia and Scott?" Malia asks, and she sounds more dismissive than worried.

"I heard someone say something about Scott being an alpha earlier," Kira offers. "Maybe they want to see how strong he is?"

"And Lydia?" Malia prompts.

"She's a banshee," Stiles says, and he's connecting the dots in his mind so quickly that the fear is actually choking him. He decides not to tell the girls what Lydia had predicted. But he can't keep them entirely in the dark.

"Which means what?" Malia asks, sounding more annoyed by the second.

"Which means," Stiles says, gritting his teeth, "that someone is probably going to die."

_And it's going to be one of us._

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**See you all next time!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi all, and thanks for the reviews (and to a slightly lesser extent the new faves/follows who haven't reviewed... hint hint). Anyway. I'm still hard at work on 'fugue', which is a very angsty post S3 Stydia fic, and I'm very excited about it, so I hope to see you all there when I publish it (which will be after I finish with 'scarlet'). And on a similar note, I'm looking for a beta reader for a Teen Wolf/Supernatural two-shot I'm working on, so if you're any good with style and vaguely familiar with both shows, feel free to put your name forward. For now, enjoy the penultimate chapter, and don't forget to let me know your thoughts.**

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For the second time, someone appears at the door. Only this time, they're ready for it. Lydia steps back, waiting, and Scott stands on the other side of the door, pressed against the wall. There's a pause, something that sounds like a swear word, and then the door opens. Scott nods to Lydia, and she returns the gesture. They're ready.

Quicker than lightning, Scott lunges. He manages to knock the guard to the ground, and he gestures wildly for Lydia to go. This had been the plan – a slightly better plan than their original, if she's honest – but Lydia hadn't realized how horrible it would make her feel. She can't just leave him.

"Go!" Scott shouts, tossing her the keys he'd taken from the guard's pocket.

Lydia catches them one-handed, her fingers curling over the hard metal. Then her senses kick in and she sprints out the door. Scott can hold his own, and if she can find Derek, they might have enough wolf-power to get out of here.

Scott had been sure Derek was in the building – he could smell him, or sense him, or maybe both – she's not too sure how the whole werewolf thing works in that regard. He'd been able to narrow it down a bit, to somewhere along this hall, but it's up to her to find exactly where he is. Then she needs to get him out of there, and he can track down the others.

In theory it could work, but it turns out practice is a lot harder.

All the doors have the same grates on them, so she keeps looking through them as she passes. The rooms are all empty – except for the one that isn't. Right down the end of the hall, almost tucked away in the corner. She's so used to finding nothing that she almost doesn't notice the figure huddled in the corner of the room.

"Derek?" she calls, and his head snaps up. At first he narrows his eyes, but then he gets to his feet. Actually, he _stumbles_ to his feet, and Lydia's heart lurches. They've never really been friends, but it looks like he's pretty badly hurt.

"Lydia," he says, his voice ragged with pain. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to save you," she says, and as she sifts through the mess of keys to find the right one, she thinks about how refreshing it is to be the one doing the rescuing rather than the one needing to be saved.

Derek doesn't say anything, but she can see his expression getting darker with every second. Finally she finds the right key and shoves it into the lock with so much force it almost snaps. It takes both of them to force the door open, but then Derek's out and they're starting back down the hall. She catches him up on the important details, and almost at once he picks up a scent.

"This way," he says, hurrying down the hall. Lydia stays a few steps back, wondering if she should offer to help him, but he seems able to walk on his own.

The werewolf comes to a stop in front of a room that looks identical to the ones on either side of it. But there's no time to hesitate, so Lydia locates the right key and drags the door open.

And feels sick at what she sees.

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**Sorry not sorry. One chapter left - review and I'll update soon. And, as an added incentive since it worked pretty well last time, if anyone can correctly guess what Lydia sees that's so sickening, I will answer any question about any of my stories. Get reviewing.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Shoutout to, y'know, everyone, because you all pretty much guessed how this chapter would start. Thank you once again for all the reviews; you guys have been wonderful. This has been a fun ride, and I'm glad I let it run longer than the originally intended one-shot. But this story has reached its end, and I hope it's to your satisfaction. Looking to the future, I'm just about finished writing 'fugue', a multi-chapter Stydia story, so stay tuned if you like my writing. I won't be publishing that until I finish publishing 'scarlet', though, so if you want to get to it quicker, head on over to 'scarlet' and give me reasons to update quickly. I think that's about all I have to say for now, so thank you all once again, and I hope to see you in some of my other stories.**

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The second time Malia tries to take out a guard, Stiles has to physically restrain her. And even after the guard is long gone, Malia keeps fighting him. Which is how he ends up on top of her on the ground, trying to deflect the punches she's throwing at him. It's not until he hears someone clearing their throat that he realizes the door's open, and it's not until he sees Lydia's furious expression that he realizes what this looks like.

"Lydia -" he starts, but Derek interrupts before he can get any further.

"Let's go," the werewolf commands, stepping back to let the others go through the door. Kira hurries through, and Stiles scrambles off Malia. The werecoyote glares at him and then walks through the door; Derek follows.

"Lydia," Stiles says again, but she rolls her eyes.

"I don't even want to know," she says, and she turns on her heel and starts down the hall.

Stiles hurries after her, falling into line at the back of the pack. Derek leads the way to another room, with a wide-open door and an unconscious body. Scott slowly gets to his feet, looking exhausted but relatively unharmed. The alpha scans the people in front of him, and his relief is almost palpable when he sees that the whole pack is there.

"Let's get out of here," he says, and they do.

Stiles doesn't say a word until they're ten miles away. They pull over at a gas station, and while the others dash inside to load up on junk food, he starts refilling his jeep. To his surprise, Lydia stays with him. She leans against the jeep, surveying him thoughtfully. Her earlier anger seems to have vanished, and Stiles has the horrible feeling that it's because she realized she doesn't actually care about him.

"You followed me in there," she says, and it takes him a moment to understand what she means.

"Of course I did," he says. "Our friends were in danger."

She taps a fingernail against her thigh, still clearly thinking. "You could have died."

Stiles stops what he's doing and looks up at her. "So could you."

"But we went in anyway," she says thoughtfully, and Stiles tries to follow her train of thought but it seems to be moving quicker than he is.

"Not that being vague and cryptic isn't fun," Stiles says, "but is there some kind of point you're trying to make?"

Lydia sighs. "I was just thinking that I'm glad I was wrong. Somehow we made it out of there and nobody died."

Stiles finally looks at her, really looks at her, and sees how tired she is. He hadn't realized before just how tiring using her banshee powers must be for her. "I bet it's not often you're wrong," he says, trying to lighten the mood, but Lydia's expression just grows more serious.

"Actually," she says, moving toward him, "there's just been one other time."

Maybe it's adrenalin, maybe it's relief, but Stiles' emotions are all tangled and his brain's moving too slowly, and surely Lydia can't mean what he thinks she means. "Yeah?" he says, surprised to find that his throat is dry and his hands are clammy. It's been a long time since Lydia's made him feel this nervous, but he's suddenly glad she can still make him feel this way. "What was the other time?"

"You," she says simply. She keeps her distance, but the way she's standing makes it clear that she's waiting for his permission. Waiting for him to make a choice. "I was wrong about you, Stiles, and I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out."

The thing is, there was never a choice to make. It's always been her, and it always will be. "You were?"

"I was." She takes a step forward, and he takes a step, so that they're only a couple inches apart. Close enough to touch, but they don't – not yet. "But I get it now. I never really thought we'd be together, but sometimes…"

"… things you wouldn't think of as being a good combination turn out to be…"

Lydia meets his eyes, and Stiles swears his heart actually stops.

"… perfect," she finishes.

And suddenly, everything is.

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**Hey look, I didn't kill anyone. That's progress, right? Right.**


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